Blackbird
by Eldritch Librarian
Summary: A series of glimpses at the life of a not-so-good Bhaalspawn Neira Noire, (a.k.a. Blackbird a.k.a. skull-obsessed pile of trash) both from BG1 and 2. Yoshimo romance in later chapters. The rating may change.
1. Hatchling

_Hush, child,_  
 _The darkness will rise from the deep_  
 _And carry you down into sleep._

 _-Mordred's Lullaby,_ Heather Dale

* * *

It was dark.

And wet.

And cold, too, but Neira didn't mind.

She got used to it.

After all, if that's how one has spent all six years of their life, they had to, haven't they?

The child closed her russet eyes (similar to her mother's), tilting her head back and leaning against the stone wall of her room. It wasn't really a room; more like a cell, but she didn't know anything different.

Suddenly, her stomach gave a loud rumble, and she rubbed it reassuringly. She hoped that her mother will give her food in a few hours. She wasn't certain, though; one never knew whenever it came to her mother.

The girl groaned, sitting up properly and looking around for something to play with. Naturally, she didn't find anything, since her room was completely empty save for a small mattress and a bowl, as well as a…

Neira squinted at the suspicious thing, reaching towards it. Her fingers met something cold and round. She picked it up.

She examined it with curiosity, wondering what it was (how could she know?) and where it came from.

"What are you?" she asked, looking deep into its eye sockets. It looked kind of like a head, but not quite. It didn't have hair, or eyes, or even a nose! It was new, though, and that made it interesting. Neira wondered if her mother would allow her to keep it.

"I like you." She announced. "Want to be my friend?" The thing didn't answer, although it seemed to have a jaw. The child frowned at it.

"You're rude." She pouted and raised her hand to throw it at a wall, but hesitated. It was the first new thing since… since when? The girl lowered her arm and looked at the object of her frustrations.

"You know," she whispered. "Maybe you're not rude. Maybe…" she frowned again, thinking about what she should say after that 'maybe.'

"Maybe because you _can't_ talk!" she exclaimed brightly, feeling very intelligent for a four year old. "Want me to talk to you, then?"

Her new companion didn't respond, but she took the silence as a 'yes'.

"Great! Well, I'm Neira. I think that I'm six years old and I'm a girl and I was born in…" she thought for a while, trying to remember the few things her mother taught her. "…in Eleint. I don't know what day, but my mother said it's Eleint, and I believe her. If I question her, she hits me, you know? It hurts, so I don't generally do that. This is my room and yours too, I guess. Do you like it here?"

The thing didn't respond.

"Oh, I forgot that you can't talk. Sorry. My mother says that when you do something wrong you have to say sorry. She usually hits me until I say it. You're not going to hit me, right? You don't have anything to hit me with, after all. You know, you're the first thing I've talked to since… Since my mother taught me to read and write, I think. I don't know why she did that, though, because I don't have anything either to write with or on, so I guess it's kind of pointless, but shhhhh!"

Suddenly, the child leaned forwards, pressing her pale finger to her lips. "Don't tell mother that I said that or she'll hit me again! Please. I know that you can't talk but please don't tell her!"

Then, the door opened and Neira jumped with a loud squeak.

Her mother entered the small room, holding a bowl filled with a sticky grey substance.

"Neira." She hissed. "I heard you talking to someone. Care to explain?"

"Yes, mother." The girl stood up, straightening her dirty grey dress, the only thing she wore. "I was talking to this." She held up her interlocutor for her mother to see.

The woman scoffed, slapping the thing out of the girl's hand and handing her the bowl.

"Don't talk to _skulls_ , you stupid child! Where did you get it from, anyway? Did you leave the room?"

Neira shook her head quickly, shrinking back. "No, mother. I… I found it there." She pointed at the corner of the room, earning a chuckle.

"I must've accidentally left it the last time I came here." The woman shook her head, her golden locks bouncing off her shoulders. "Now eat. I have something to show you."

Neira did as she was told, swallowing the cold, tasteless porridge and scraping the bowl clean. Then, she followed her mother out of the room and down a long corridor, as dark and cold and wet as her room.

"You're a big girl now, aren't you?" her mother asked, and the child risked a nod, earning a slap so hard that made her trip and fall.

"You're a big girl now, aren't you?" the woman repeated the question.

"Yes, mother." Neira responded, getting up on her bare feet and brushing herself off.

"Good. Therefore, I believe that it's time for you to know the truth about your…"

Her mother stopped abruptly, looking around, brown eyes narrowed.

"We're not alone." She stated, drawing a dagger from her black robe. "Stay close and don't interrupt me."

Suddenly, there was a whirlwind of movement as three tall silhouettes appeared from around the bend, two waving big, sharp, metal sticks, and the third one a longer, wooden one.

'Swords' Neira thought about one of the illustrations in her mother's book. She kept behind her mother as she shouted out some mysterious words and sent a ray of red energy into the first figure, which collapsed with a groan.

Then, the figure with the wooden stick shouted some other mysterious words and suddenly her mother stood very still, even as the last figure poked its sharp sword straight through her breast.

The child obeyed the command though, staying hidden behind the immobilized corpse until the spell ended and it collapsed.

"Mother?" she called, frowning. What happened? Why wasn't her mother waking up? Why were the two remaining silhouettes staring at her?

"A child." One of them stated, sounding somewhat confused, and her frown deepened. Of course she was a child! Have they never seen one? The silhouette with the long stick said a few mysterious words a bright light appeared in its hand, illuminating the dark corridor and allowing her to take a better look at the intruders.

The first one was a tall man with greyish hair and blue eyes. He wore big, shiny armour which looked very heavy, but he didn't seem to mind. He was _smiling,_ too, and Neira wasn't really sure what to do; her mother _never_ smiled at her.

The se _c_ ond man, the one holding the stick and the light, looked even older, with neatly trimmed white beard and tired, green eyes. He was dressed in blue robes with silver patterns so complex that they gave the girl a mild headache, so she looked away.

"Don't be scared, child." The man said, holding his hand out to her. "We're not here to hurt you."

She risked a look at him, still not sure if she should trust him; her mother has warned her about strangers. She really, really wanted to run, but the only place she knew was her room, and she doubted that the skull would protect her from the two men. It didn't have hands, after all.

"You've hurt my mother." She said after a while, noticing the red, red blood around her mother's corpse. Her mother has hurt her badly enough to draw blood on a couple of occasions when she was being particularly stubborn or disobedient, so she knew what blood was; the less you have it, the more likely you are to die.

The two men shared an uncomfortable look.

"She was a bad person," The one in the armour said, "but she won't hurt you anymore."

"Of course she won't." She responded, rather annoyed. "Because you've killed her. That's how it works; if you kill them, they won't kill you. That's what she told me."

Another uncomfortable stare.

"Hey, kid," the man tried again. "How about if you come home with us? We'll help you. We'll give you food, clothes and a room all for yourself! You'll be safe with us. I promise."

The other man smiled helpfully, his hand still outstretched.

That… was a difficult situation, Neira thought, running her thin fingers through her messy, black hair. On one hand, they killed mother, but on the other, _they killed mother_. She wasn't sure how she'd survive without her bringing her food or…

"You will give me food?" she asked, looking at them suspiciously. The grey porridge wasn't nearly enough to fill her stomach.

The armour-clad man almost sighed in relief, happy that they have hit common ground, and reached to his belt pouch. He took out a few dried fruits and handed them to her. After sniffing and poking them for a few seconds, the child took a cautious bite.

It tasted like heaven.

The older man watched as the girl stuffed all the fruits into her mouth and chewed with the most delighted expression he'd ever seen.

"You know, Fern." He said to his companion. "I think that she'll be coming with us."


	2. Magpies

_If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?_

 _-Alice In Wonderland,_ Lewis Carroll.

* * *

"Hi, Fluffhead!"

Neira looked up from scrubbing the floor to meet the freckled face of her best friend, Imoen.

"Fluffhead?" she repeated, frowning. "My hair isn't _fluffy_."

"No, but it's all over the place!" Imoen ruffled her friend's hair and gestured to her own. "Look, I found a potion which made _my_ hair go pink, see?" Indeed, the ten year old girl's chin-long hair was bright pink instead of the usual copper.

Neira's frown deepened. "Why?" she asked.

Imoen pouted. "Because why not? Geez, you're no fun, you know that?"

"I simply don't have the time, Im." Neira responded, returning to the scrubbing. "After I'm finished I'll have to help Parda sort the books in the East Wing. If you're bored, you can help me."

"You know, I…"

Suddenly, the two girls froze when they heard two voices behind the door. Without a moment of hesitation, they tip-toed to the key hole and Neira looked into it.

The first voice belonged to her foster father Gorion (although she never thought of him as one), while the other to a young man wearing a purple tunic and trousers, both adorned with many trinkets and ornaments. The girl's eyes glittered. _Very shiny_ trinkets and ornaments.

"You know, I changed my mind." She said, turning to her friend, grinning. "The scrubbing and sorting can wait."

 **xXx**

They waited until the two men disappeared around the corner before quietly following them straight to the dining hall. From the bits and pieces of their conversation, the two girls found out that the man was a noble scholar (a very arrogant one, in Neira's opinion), who came from Neverwinter to see the magnificent library of Candlekeep. They sat by the wide table and started discussing boring grown-up stuff, which both girls blocked out, focusing on the visitor's possessions. They waited silently under the table until the two adults were completely absorbed into the conversation and got to work.

Jerro Stoneglacier didn't realise that he was deprived of half of his belongings until he was three days away from Neverwinter.

 **xXx**

Some time later, Neira and Imoen sat in the latter's room and counted up their loot, giggling and stuffing themselves with Winthrop's cookies.

"Am I still no fun, Im?" Neira elbowed her friend, causing her to snort, her mouth full of cookies. "Gorion will probably be angry at me for this, but he can go to Hells."

"What's a Hells?" Imoen questioned, wiping her mouth.

The other girl shrugged. "I don't know, but I heard one of the guards say it and it sounded funny. Hey, so what shinies did you steal from him?"

"Right. The shinies." Both girls made serious expressions, like the thieves they read about in the storybooks, before breaking into giggles once again.

"I got this," Imoen held up a golden brooch, shaped like a heron in flight.

"and this." A sapphire ring.

"And also this." A few silver coins. "What did you steal?"

Neira took out a medium-sized, plain, grey bag.

"It felt funny." She explained. "As if it's…"

"It's magical!" the other girl exclaimed, snatching the item and examining it curiously. "Or it has something magical inside. Parda taught me to recognise magical items. They have an…"

"Aura?" Neira suggested, earning a nod.

"Yeah, aura, that's the word. Oooohh, I wonder what it does!" the younger girl opened the bag, and out came a bunch of scrolls, three pairs of ugly (in the girls' opinions) clothes, a dagger, a potted plant, a winter coat and a pair of shoes.

"Wow." Neira said after a few minutes of impressed silence. "It's a Bag of Holding, I think. I've read a bit about them. It can hold a lot of stuff and… AND IT'S _MINE_!" she snatched the bag away from Imoen, sitting on it to prevent the other girl from retrieving it. "I stole it, so it's mine!"

Imoen groaned, giving her friend her best puppy eyes (worked even on Puffguts). "Pleeeaaaaase?" she smiled fawningly. "I'll trade you for that bird pin. I know that you like birds…"

"No way, Im."

"Please?"

"No."

"Fine. The _pin and_ the ring."

"Nuh-uh."

" _All_ the shinies I stole?"

"Nope."

Imoen thought for a while.

"All those things, and I'll do your chores for a _month_."

"Although it's tempting, no." Neira was too busy examining the bag to hear her friend's annoyed huff. "Oh, look! There's an extra pocket! Wonder what's in there… Aha!"

Imoen gasped at the sight of a beautiful, pink, oval gem suspended on a golden chain. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open as she reached out to touch it. It was love at the first sight.

"It's mine too." the other girl snapped her out of the daze by hiding the necklace back into the bag.

"B…But…" Imoen's lower lip quivered. "But it's so _pretty_!" she exclaimed. "And you don't even like pink! It's not fair, Neira!"

She jumped off the bed and stomped her foot, pouting.

"You know what? I'll _steal_ it from you! When you'll go to sleep, I'll sneak in and take it! You'll see!"

"Oh no you won't!" Neira crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue.

"Yes I will!"

"No you won't!

"Yes I will!"

"Oh no yo…"

"What is going on?"

Both girls turned their heads to the door, and Neira quickly covered the loot with a blanket.

The door opened and Gorion entered, looking at them suspiciously.

"What is this about?!" He asked.

"Nothing, father." Neira replied automatically, straightening her back and looking down at the floor, her arms straight by her sides and her face devoid of any emotions. Imoen didn't know why Neira talked like this whenever an adult asked her something, but it freaked her out. "We were having an argument, but it's settled now. I'm sorry if we have caused a commotion. This will never happen again, I swear."

Gorion's stern expression softened.

"Don't apologise, child and, for Oghma's sake, don't be afraid to look up! I'm not going to hurt you. Parda was looking for you; he said that you were supposed to help him with…"

"…It's my fault." Imoen spoke up shyly. "I dragged her away to… to play hide and seek and that's why she didn't come. I'm sorry, sir. If… if it's alright, I will help her with helping Parda with sorting the books." She fidgeted with her sleeve, not daring to look up at the old man, who gave her a gentle smile. "Please don't be mad?"

"It's quite alright, Imoen." He chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I see that you have been messing around in Mellar's workshop again. I have to say, pink suits you. No, I'm not angry at either of you; you're just children, after all. You can go to Parda after dinner."

With those words, he left, and both girls sighed in relief.

"Hey," Neira elbowed her. "Thanks for bluffing me out of this. Really. I owe you one, Im."

"No problem." Imoen shrugged; she was used to bluffing her way out of trouble. "So… Do I get to keep the necklace?"

"Still no."

"Awww, please? I offered to help you sort out the books, and you know how _boring_ that can be."

"…Maybe. We'll see." Neira brushed invisible dirt off her shirt and headed towards the door, followed by her skipping friend.

"Is that a 'yes', then?"

"It's a 'Maybe, we'll see.' There is a very significant difference."

"Wow, you know what? I was wrong. You really are _no fun_."

"I know."

"And you use very grown-up words and it annoys me."

"I'm completely aware of your exasperation."

"You know what? I _really_ hate you."

 **xXx**

After the dinner, they headed to the East Wing, where all the magical theory was kept. An old monk named Parda gave them a quick scolding for being late and ordered to sort the books alphabetically and according to the school of magic.

The Wing was divided into eight sections, and by supper, they were done with six of them; to save time, Imoen did one and Neira the other. The latter opened the door hesitantly, looking around the dark room; not a single candle was lit and there was dust everywhere. The girl frowned.

'The other rooms weren't so dark.' She thought, slipping out for a few seconds before returning with a lit candle. 'Anyway, I need to get to work if I want to make it to supper.'

Her fingers gently touched the ancient bindings and she blew the dust away.

 _'_ _THE COMPLETE WORKS OF DANABAR THE GREY'_ the faded letters read.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a blur of pink and purple dashed in, tackling the black-haired girl down and knocking a few books off the shelf.

"HINEIRAAREYOUDONEYETI'MDONEDOYOUWANTMETOHELPYOU?" Imoen squeaked out before looking around the dusty room. "Gee, this place gives me goosebumps. Let's get it done as fast as we can." She wrinkled her nose, helping Neira up.

"Hi, Imoen." The older girl sighed. "No, I'm not done yet. In fact, I was about to start. Some help would be nice, thank you. We could start with the books that you have…"

She didn't finish, and Imoen looked above her shoulder to see what made her stop.

 _"_ _The Complete Works of Danabar the Grey"_ was sitting open on Neira's lap. On one page was a detailed, labelled diagram of a human skeleton, while the other was filled with hand-written notes.

 _"_ _The human body can be used again after its demise, as I have found out. It's quite simple, in fact, if one has sufficient resources and talent. Firstly, the body parts can be useful spell components. For example, the curse "Trinity's Regicide" requires a sailor's fingerbones, and "Liar's Greed" asks for a pound of flesh from a doomed merchant. Not many spells use human parts, but bone dust and blood are frequently mentioned._

 _Secondly, creating an undead thrall; it's difficult at first, but becomes easier with practice. The state of the body doesn't matter too much, as it's held together by the caster's magic. I have described the ritual below, both as a reminder to myself and a hint to my future apprentice*._

 _(* My time on this plane is coming to an end, and soon I'll have to transfer my essence to another soul, otherwise it's gone forever. I'll have to find someone talented and with a strong will and a corrupted heart, lest they waste my hard work and give it to a temple – I shudder at the sheer thought)"_

Neira shut the book after reading a few paragraphs out loud, and looked at her horrified friend.

"It's a book about necromancy." She stated with an odd expression before getting up stiffly and reaching for another book. Imoen grabbed her wrist.

"You know…" she whispered, looking around fearfully. "Let's go. It's getting late and we'll miss the s…"

The other girl tore her hand from the grasp. "You can go if you want to." She said emotionlessly, reaching for the candle and examining other books. "I'm staying. I'm still not done."

"We'll finish tomorrow! Or better yet, Parda will do this one himself. Now come on, please!"

"No, Imoen." Neira turned around with an expression that made Imoen shudder. "I'm staying here. If this room is like the others, then it's positively full of books like this one, and I have to read them all." She grinned, grabbing her friend by her shoulders. "Think about this, Im." She whispered, russet eyes wide. "Necromancy: the power to command death itself; to create countless undead creatures, ready to do your bidding; to cast spells that would bring death both painless or painful, or even stop it completely! Apparently, Danabar was a _lich._ An incredibly, impossibly powerful undead mage, free from the binding chains of mortality, an invincible horde under his command…"

"Please, stop…" Imoen sobbed out, trying to back away, but Neira's grip was strong. "Please… Let's just go."

"Go?" Neira frowned. "No way, Im! Weren't you listening? I have all the secrets to the greatest school of magic at my fingertips and you want me to _go_? Forget it! You can go, but I'm staying." Her grip loosened, and Imoen ran out, crying, out of the room. Neira ignored her, turning back to one of the many bookshelves in the room, and her grin reappeared.

 _The Lord of Murder shall perish_  
 _But in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny_  
 _Chaos will be sown from their passing_  
 _So sayeth the wise Alaundo_

* * *

 **(A/N: Yes, Neira is ten in this. Yes, she knows some pretty disturbing vocabulary at this stage but hey, she lives in a library, right? And yes, the curses "Liar's Greed" and "Trinity's Regicide" are Shakespeare references ("Merchant of Venice" and "Macbeth", respectively). Mellar and Fern (mentioned in the previous chapter) are made up, and so is the lich Danabar the Grey. I actually have a whole storyline thought up centering around his apprentice, but I can't be bothered to develop it.)  
**


End file.
